Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Arael Tribe 4
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About two hundred soldiers had assembled in front of the fortress. The plundering of nearby villages must have already wrapped up, judging by the massive piles of spoils and the heartbreaking sight of commoners roped together and dragged along.
With that much loot around, you'd expect the troops to have devolved into undisciplined bandits by now, but astonishingly, the count's army maintained perfect order even in these circumstances.
Just looking at the soldiers' condition made it clear that Count Garnahair of Rantarik was no ordinary man. The troops were chanting in unison after the sergeant's words, urging those inside the fortress to negotiate with the count.
A flag rose over the fortress, and two knights along with one Herald emerged. It was Azadin, Sir Jibek, and the fortress garrison captain—a squire knight who had been in charge of security—coming out to parley.
Count Garnahair also approached Azadin's group, accompanied by one knight and one Herald.
“I am Count Garnahair of Rantarik. Who among you actually holds the power?”
Count Garnahair was a middle-aged man with white hair, but his appearance looked youthful. Perhaps due to his strong Yaegas divine bloodline, he exuded a refined vitality, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light that seemed to shine on its own.
It was a presence so imposing that ordinary folk would cower at the mere sight of him. Village boys would believe he was an angel if a man like this in silver armor went around claiming to be one.
‘And this is the kind of guy who slaughters civilians.’
Azadin sighed and stepped forward before Garnahair.
“That's me.”
“How unusual. Herald, aren't you lot supposed to be wanderers by nature? And you're the one making the decisions here?”
“I'm a professional. You brought a Herald along for the negotiations yourself, my lord.”
“......”
Garnahair fell silent, at a loss for words.
“More importantly... that's Nefti, isn't it?”
Azadin eyed the woman standing beside Sir Garnahair. It was Nefti, the 75th Rank Herald.
The Herald hierarchy was just a numbering system, but reaching the 75th rank meant she was a considerable powerhouse. Especially Nefti, who had risen to Herald status on her own without any family backing and had proven her worth among the Heralds.
She was three cycles Azadin's senior and watched him now with an intrigued expression.
“You know me, Azadin?”
“Yes. You're more famous than Kahsan, aren't you? 75th Rank.”
“True enough. So it's really true you beat Kahsan?”
“Did he say that himself?”
“He did. Impressive work. Admitting defeat to you—the tribe's outcast—would tarnish his honor, but he put the organization's interests above his own reputation. Cute, isn't he?”
“From my position, hearing that stirs up some pretty complicated feelings.”
Just spilling the fact of his loss to Azadin dirtied Kahsan's honor enough that he'd want to hide it. Hearing that made Azadin feel insulted.
“Of course, I apologize for underestimating you, Azadin. Which brings me to this: why not join our side? Arael wants you back. Up until now, everyone opposed it because they thought you were useless, but beating Kahsan changes everything. They'd welcome you with open arms.”
“Right now, I think negotiating with you takes priority over that talk, my lord. We'll open the fortress gates. In exchange, guarantee the safety of everyone inside. Also, please allow us to take the surviving villagers from the nearby areas and withdraw.”
“The villagers too? That's a hefty demand for opening the gates.”
“We're not asking for riches. We're opening the gates, so we need some justification, don't we? If we say we did it to save the commoners, it gives us cover—and you avoid adding to your infamy. Seems like a win-win to me.”
At Azadin's words, Garnahair scowled.
“Are you insulting me, boy?”
“Pardon?”
“Talking about my infamy—isn't that condemning me for killing civilians? How dare you rebuke me to my face. Insolent!”
“That wasn't my intent. Sorry if it came across that way.”
“Take off that mask first. Who wears a mask to a parley?”
“I'm a bit unsightly, but fine, whatever.”
When Azadin removed his mask, even Count Rantarik looked taken aback.
“Your eyes...”
“I was just hiding something repulsive.”
“Hmm. In any case, I'm not handing over the commoners. Open the gates, don't touch anything, and leave. Taking this fortress wouldn't take long anyway. Oh, and...”
“Yes?”
“There should be an old man named Brand among you. He was a scribe at my manor, guilty of embezzlement and theft. Hand him over.”
“Brand, you say?”
“Yes. If you don't, I won't accept your surrender.”
“Hmm. Is it worth a count like you getting personally involved over one doddering old man?”
“What he stole is precious to me. Plus, he's served me for ages. Letting a betrayer like that go free would damage my prestige, and he'd likely spread nonsense about it.”
“Understood. So your terms are: open the gates and withdraw, hand over Brand, no civilians for us, and you'll spare our lives. That's it?”
“Exactly.”
The garrison captain then pressed Azadin.
“Give him up. Come on, we're talking one scribe's life and the civilians outside—for our survival?”
“......”
Showing weakness mid-negotiation like this. Azadin clicked his tongue at the captain.
“Got it. Then let's head back to the fortress and discuss.”
“No, decide here and now.”
The count blocked Azadin from leaving.
“Delay opening the gates, and it's no different from resisting to the end. You came out to parley because you wanted to open up and beg for your lives, right? So what's the issue? The commoners' lives? Brand's life? Ah, is that it? Has Brand been spouting some weird nonsense about me?”
“He's lost his mind. Said bandits captured him and forced him to eat his own wife and kids. Snapped completely.”
“Is that so? Then it's even less of a big deal. You don't want to get wiped out here over one senile geezer, do you? Decide right now.”
The count demanded an immediate decision on the spot, forcefully.
“P-please... let's do as he says. Against a great noble like the count, we can't possibly...”
The garrison captain showed weakness again right there in the parley field, so Azadin casually flicked his hand.
*Thwack!*
“Guh?!”
The captain fainted, and Sir Jibek naturally caught him. It was as if he'd anticipated Azadin silencing the man.
“Oh?”
The count's eyes narrowed as he saw the Herald and the King's Church holy knight moving in perfect sync.
“Looks like you haven't tested our defenses yet, my lord.”
Azadin smiled as he spoke.
“Your defenses?”
“Yes. Knocking down a fortress like this is a piece of cake for you, so even if we surrender and open the gates, you figure we get nothing. That's what you're thinking, right?”
“Correct.”
“Then we have to prove the value of what we're selling. If we hold out inside and whittle down your forces bit by bit, you'll be more inclined to throw in a few extra lives—like the commoners and that senile scribe.”
“Are you threatening me? Why go this far? It has nothing to do with you.”
“Because I'm an emperor's herald. It's my duty to value commoners' lives and hear the voices of the wronged.”
“Even though the emperor died centuries ago? Fine then. I'll start killing the commoners I'm holding right now. If you refuse to parley, I'll slaughter every one I've got. Reducing Salasma's populace helps my strategy too. What now? If you care about their lives, what's your choice?”
“Mm...”
Sir Jibek, who had been listening, let out a groan. Though a holy knight of the King's Church from a lower noble house, he'd never heard such mad ravings.
In disputes between lower nobles over land, water, groundwater, or springs, commoners were always strictly protected. Even if treated like livestock, that very fact fostered genuine protective instincts.
Dead commoners meant plummeting yields. It was a basic truth among lower nobles—one that didn't apply to a great noble like Count Rantarik.
With a major city as his domain, constant population influx, the ability to train proper soldiers, and the option to relocate commoners to frontier settlements, a great noble like him could slaughter others' peasants for strategic gain without a second thought.
In other words, this man could genuinely kill commoners.
‘Threatening to kill for leverage alone? Disgusting.’
As a holy knight of the King's Church, he was duty-bound to protect those bearing King's Radiance and the blood of Yaegas. But Count Rantarik's words here were repulsive and vile.
What would Azadin say?
“Ah, that's quite the amusing threat. But you've already been massacring commoners from the start. Even if I open the gates, you'll kill them anyway, right? Slaughtering them in front of the fortress just because I won't hurts your dignity for nothing. Unless you don't care about dignity normally.”
“Hmph. You think killing peasants damages my dignity? You speak from ignorance. I'm showing mercy.”
Count Rantarik declared shamelessly.
Killing is mercy? Even granting that nonsense, what about the atrocities done by his men, like Doneir? That monster tortured humans horrifically and forced families to eat each other. Where was the mercy in any of that?
“My terms stand firm. In exchange for opening the fortress gates, guarantee the lives of those commoners, your scribe Brand, the commoners, and the soldiers defending this place. If you violate that and start killing in front of me, I'll take other measures. Tying their lives to your hands is as good as killing them myself.”
“I'll kill the ones I'm holding right now—and you lot too. That fine with you?”
Instead of answering, Azadin donned his mask and turned to the 75th Rank Herald, Nefti, beside him.
“Nefti, you're with Arael, right? Like Kahsan was?”
“Yeah.”
“Why ally with this fool?”
“What?!”
The count fumed at Azadin insulting him right to his face.
“You bastard!”
Enraged, the count drew his sword.